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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26546470">Black Satin, White Lace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray'>killingsaray</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>50SOG But Make It Zurena, BDSM, Dom!Zule, Eventual Equals, F/F, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Prison, Prison Sex, Professional Women, Sub!Maca, The real season 5, prison wives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:41:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,174</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26546470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“We could—.”</p><p>“Forget it, Zulema. We agreed that after prison we wouldn’t do that anymore. I need to be able to move on.”</p><p>OR</p><p>The AU where Zulema used to dominate Macarena, but she’s lost those privileges.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>292</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>first thing’s first, not your cup of tea, don’t sip.<br/>second thing’s next, this story will jump between present day (post-prison) and flashbacks (in prison) and they’ll be labeled clearly. some events did not happen in this story. that will also become clear.<br/>third thing’s final, every kudos is a soft kiss, but every comment is an orgasm.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “What’s the point in satin and lace if it didn’t make a (wo)man struggle to speak?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -Alexandra Ivy </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> Prologue </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five years ago, Cruz del Norte, Colmenar Viejo, Madrid, Spain </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dark green eyes flicker open and in almost no time at all, Zulema Zahir is propped up in bed, one hand outreached, fingers digging into the sides of someone’s neck. Her face softens, just barely, as she recognizes Macarena in the dark, but her hand remains wrapped securely around her throat. </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em> Qué <em> ?” She demands. Macarena opens her mouth, but a small squeak is the only thing that comes out. Zulema’s fingers loosen and she raises her brows in question. </em></p><p>
  <em> “Can we talk?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema looks over at Saray’s bunk. The brunette appears to be sleeping, but Zulema knows better.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Bathroom.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca nods and Zulema finally releases her neck and the blonde backs up just enough for Zulema to hop down off of the bunk. She allows Macarena to exit the cell first and she is stopped in her tracks by the creaking of a bunk bed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Zule?” </em>
</p><p><em> Zulema turns around to see Saray sitting up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning. “ </em> Todo bien <em> ?” </em></p><p><em> “ </em> Sí, vuelves a dormir <em> .” </em></p><p>
  <em> Saray nods and lies back down. Zulema knows she better make this quick because Saray will not go back to sleep until she returns. So, she makes her way to the bathrooms, nodding once at Altagracía in the guard’s booth.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When she enters the bathroom, Macarena is sitting on the steel bench, Native-style, hands fidgeting with the zipper on her yellow hoodie. Zulema shuts the door, walks to the metal sinks, and leans against one. She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at Macarena expectantly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She does this often, makes Macarena come to her. Macarena thinks it’s just another way for Zulema to have control over everyone and everything. For Zulema, it’s both a way for her to keep everyone at a distance and also it gives them the opportunity to decide if they want to approach her. It’s something she’s read in one of the psychology books in the prison library.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s how she’s learned so much in her time here. Yet, she still never knows if this time Maca will decide not to come to her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She doesn’t have to wait very long for Macarena to decide this time.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The blonde drops one foot onto the floor and pushes off of the bench. Slowly makes her way to Zulema, not stopping until her own body is flush against the brunette. Zulema uncrosses her arms to allow it but still doesn’t touch Maca. Instead, she rests her hands on the lip of the sink behind her. Macarena’s come up to rest on either side of Zulema’s waist and she lifts her head, angling for a kiss.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Maca,” sighs Zulema. They’ve been doing this dance for the better part of six months. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Stolen moments in the library or bathroom. Sometimes in their cells when everyone else is out roaming the yard. Just kisses and desperate groping. Never anything more.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema has chalked it up to loneliness, and the fact that whether she knows it or not, Macarena is the only one who is truly just as alone as Zulema is.  </em>
</p><p><em> Macarena just plain old </em> <b> <em>wants</em> </b> <em> Zulema. She is brilliant and dangerous and knows exactly what she wants. If this were the real world, any other setting besides prison, Zulema is exactly the kind of person that Macarena would be attracted to.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “What?” Maca pleads because she is horny as hell and Zulema has been denying her any source of relief. “What is holding you back?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Two hands finally come up to rest on Macarena’s shoulders and they push her away just enough so that Zulema can think properly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You need to know something.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Vale.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “About what I crave during sex.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca takes a step back and keeps slips her hands into her hoodie pockets.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I like--,” Zulema stops herself, “no, I need to be in control.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dimples appear as Maca snorts her laughter. “This is supposed to be a surprise?”  </em>
</p><p><em> “No, I need to be the </em> <b> <em>only</em> </b> <em> one in control. I want to dominate you. Choke you, spank you, tie you up, blindfold you. Show you just how pleasurable pain can be.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Macarena blinks, expression unreadable. It’s not a total surprise, it’s just… different. Though when she thinks about it, all of the times Zulema has manhandled her in the corridors of this prison and Cruz Del Sur, Macarena wasn’t frightened.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was excited.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Aroused, even.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If she’s honest with herself, her heart had hammered in her chest at the thought of Zulema actually following through. The possibility of being in a potentially dangerous situation with dark green eyes looming over her was undeniably titillating.  </em>
</p><p><em> But so was the notion of being Zulema’s. In every sense of the phrase. Macarena could be just as cold as Zulema, but when it comes down to it, she craves more. She needs a connection. To sit with Zulema in the cafeteria. To become a part of her inner sanctum where she can chat breezily with Zulema while Saray —or anyone, for that matter— is around. To </em> <b> <em>be</em> </b> <em> Zulema’s girlfriend.  </em></p><p>
  <em> And almost as if Zulema can see the hopefully gears turning in Macarena’s mind, Zulema finishes with, “But that’s all I can offer.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What does that mean?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Exactly what I said. I’m not interested in smuggling you flowers and chocolate hearts. I just want you naked and quivering and taking whatever I decide you deserve.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Body betraying her logic, Macarena exhales a sound of yearning.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But—.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s a lot to take in. So, I’ll give you a week to think about it. If you come to me in seven days, I’ll take that as permission.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Permission to do what?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema inhales deeply through her nose and takes in Maca’s body from head to toe and back again. “Whatever I want.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca gulps.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And if you don’t come to me, I’ll know what your decision is.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema slips away, shoving her hands into her pockets as she shuffles towards the door, leaving behind a conflicted Macarena Ferreiro. </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> It’s been five days since their conversation in the dark of the bathroom and Maca has felt a myriad of emotions. Some, like frustration, push through to the forefront of her mind and break her concentration until—. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shit,” she huffs as the wobbling pile of books in her hands topples over, falling to the floor.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shh!” Someone hisses.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca rolls her eyes and starts to pick up the fallen books. Working in the library is a lot better than gardening or woodwork, but it doesn’t mean that it’s any less grueling. She starts to put them back where they belong, slowly making her way down the aisles.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Finally, all that’s left is a book on dream interpretations and as she makes her way to the education section, Maca’s heart flutters when she sees who’s standing before it. Zulema is scanning a row of anthropology books. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Zulema.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The older woman whips around at her name, looking annoyed at the interruption. Annoyance turns to surprise and then amusement as Macarena steps closer and closer.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m not the type to have sex without emotion. I feel things for you. Things that I probably shouldn’t, but I do. And it’s strange, you know? We’re responsible for so much pain in one another’s lives, but—,” she raises a hand and gestures before letting it drop back down, “I don’t know. For the life of me, I can’t stop thinking about being with you.” </em>
</p><p><em> “I already told you what I want. And it’s the only way we’re going to be together. It’s the only way I know </em> <b> <em>how</em> </b> <em> to be with someone.” Zulema says.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “Why? Why does it have to be that way? Talk to me!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema simply blinks at her. Then she gives a subtle shake of her head and sighs. The raven-haired woman steps forward, closing the distance between them. She pulls one hand from the pocket of her pants and pushes a tendril of blonde hair behind Macarena’s ear.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Two days,” Zulema reminds her. Turning back to the row of books, she snags the one she was eyeing before Macarena had interrupted her and shuffles off. </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> It’s judgment day. So, naturally it rains.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All day.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nonstop.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The earth is cleansing itself, attempting to start anew. And if the world is continuously resetting, then why can’t she? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why can’t she try something new? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In an act of symbolism, Maca heads to the showers where she washes away what she thinks she has to accept  in order to be happy. She stands under the stream long after the last of the soap and shampoo has circled the drain. Eventually others begin to make their way into the bathroom and it’s perfect timing. This way, she can speak to Zulema without listening ears or watchful eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca thinks long and hard about Zule's offer and all that it would entail. She wants to be with Zule, and if the only way is to surrender completely to her and allow Zulema to dominate her, then she would do it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So, she decides.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After putting on a fresh uniform, she drops her things in her bunk and then walks a couple of cells down.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then, slowly, she enters Zulema's cell. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The brunette is facing away from her, feet up on her desk, head deep in the book she has borrowed from the library two days ago. As always, she senses Maca is there before she even turns around. When she does, she takes in Maca’s still-wet hair, and the way she’s approaching Zulema as if stepping towards a wild animal. Zulema closes the book and pivots until her feet are planted on the floor. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca doesn’t speak.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema stands.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> One foot in front of the other. Just a little closer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Finally, she’s standing before Zulema.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ready.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Open.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Waiting.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema stares at her, emerald orbs on mint ones. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Say it,” Zulema commands. She needs to hear it.  </em>
</p><p><b> <em>Wants</em> </b> <em> to hear.  </em></p><p><b> <em>Desperately</em> </b> <em> .  </em></p><p>
  <em> Maca’s lips part. Her lashes flutter and her breathing quickens.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So does Zulema’s.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Punish me.” </em>
</p><p><em> And abruptly, the storm knocks the lights out. Thunder rolls and lightning flashes, illuminating the slight smirk on the face of </em>elfo del puto infierno. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Like Old Friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>just a reminder, some canon things have not happened. and some have. enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Present Day</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Macarena looks at her watch and groans. “Fuck me sideways.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is late. </span>
</p><p><span>And her business partner does </span><em><span>not</span></em> <em><span>do</span></em><span> late.</span></p><p>
  <span>The blonde punches in the four-digit code to the elevator that sends her skyrocketing towards the fiftieth floor of the Aguirre Building in beautiful downtown Madrid. She balances four cups of coffee and the business portfolio for their newest presentation in her hands. The elevator dings her arrival and she steps out of it and into the lobby of Ferreiro-Zahir and Associates, the consulting firm that she and Zulema had begun nearly a year ago. With Macarena’s corporate finance background and Zulema’s diabolical mind, the two had decided that, despite how they began, they worked well together. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What better way to make millions of dollars than to convince rich business owners that their failing corporations </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>needed </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>Ferriero-Zahir and Associates? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Macarena stops at the front desk and sets down a cup of coffee in front of María Prieto, also known as Casper, Zulema’s personal assistant. From prison scrubs to pencil skirts, Casper would follow Zulema to the end of the earth if the brunette let her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Extra cream, extra sugar,” Maca says and María smiles, taking the coffee gratefully. The platinum blonde reaches over to collect three brightly colored post-it notes and hands them over. “Three messages for you. Two are from clients, and the final one is from your brother, asking you to RSVP to your niece’s birthday party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca nods and sips her own coffee as she reads through María’s hurried scrawl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s her mood like?” Macarena asks, jutting her head towards Zulema’s office door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>María flips her hand side to side. “Ehh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent,” the blonde sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maca!” A voice calls. Maca whips around to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>assistant, Cristina Marquina. She was known as Bambi in prison, but outside of those grim, cold walls, she is anything but a deer in headlights. Cristina is sharp, funny, and incredibly kind. She and Maca had stayed in touch and when Macarena was in dire need of someone she could trust, Cristina was the first person she thought of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were you? I’ve been calling your cell,” explains Cristina.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was being a nice boss and bringing you coffee.” Maca gestures theatrically to the last coffee on the foam stray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, but you’re late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The meeting with the owners and CFO of Fujiwara Enterprises.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not until nine.” Maca flicks her wrist to check the face of the silver watch. “It’s just past eight-thirty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are they already in the conference room with Zulema?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca’s ears begin to feel warm as her blood starts to boil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That little fucking—.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>El elfo del puto infierno</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Maca huffs as she snatches up her portfolio and coffee and marches toward the conference room. She stops at the frosted glass door and inhales deeply, exhaling her frustrations before stepping inside of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the head of the conference table is Zulema and there are four men, two on either side of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice of you to join us, </span>
  <em>
    <span>rubía</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Zulema smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca pulls off her teal-tinted sunglasses and smiles politely at their potential, new clients who thankfully only speak Japanese. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would have been here sooner, but I was told nine a.m.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who told you that?” Zulema asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zulema.” Maca tries to keep her tone cheerful, but the stupid ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ expression on Zulema’s face is driving her up a wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema pretends to think about this. “No, I would never. This is such an important deal for the company, I wouldn’t mess that up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Maca sits in the only empty chair at the table, “I’m here now. So, please continue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the gentlemen, the company’s interpreter, looks at Zulema and the brunette smiles warmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this your colleague?” He asks. Zulema nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Macarena Ferreiro. The other half of Ferreiro-Zahir. Maca, this is Kaiyō Takahashi, interpreter for Mr. San Fujiwara, his brother Mr. Yami Fujiwara, and their chief financial officer, Mr. Sato Nakamura.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaiyō translates the introductions to the other men who turn to Maca and bow in greeting. Maca returns the gesture. Zulema sits back in her seat, looking every bit the evil genius that she thinks she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have actually decided that the best way to conduct good, </span>
  <em>
    <span>honest </span>
  </em>
  <span>business is over a nice cocktail and dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Tonight, Cebo, seven p.m.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We look forward to it,” Kaiyō responds. He translates something to the gentlemen who nod in agreement and then stand. Zulema and Maca stand as well. A series of bows float around the table before the gentlemen take their leave. Cristina, who is standing beside the conference room door, leads the gentlemen back through the hall and towards the elevators. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zulema,” sighs Maca.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Macarena,” Zulema muses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde doesn’t know what to say. She simply shakes her head, picks up her coffee and the portfolio that she never even got to present and walks out of the conference room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema, confused as to where Maca’s fight has gone, watches her go.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cebo Restaurante, Madrid, 5:45PM</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Macarena has Cristina call the restaurant to be sure of their dinner reservation and the precise time. She will not be made to look like a fool in front of their clients again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Zulema arrive at the restaurant at the same time: fifteen minutes early, as per proper business dinner etiquette. Almost in unison, they step out of their cars and hand their keys to awaiting valets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, who made it on time.” The brunette quips as she opens the restaurant door for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bite me, Zulema.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema makes a small biting motion with her mouth and Maca suppresses her smile, hiding it with an eye roll. The door from the restaurant’s vestibule is opened for them. Zulema gestures for Maca to enter first. She presses a hand against Maca’s lower back and grins as Maca’s spine straightens and she hesitates in her step. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema announce their arrival to the maître d’ and they’re immediately shown to their table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Known for mixing mountain cuisine with that of the sea, Cebo surprises its guests with its style and modernity. With severa tasting menus that boast Japanese-Spanish fusion, it is the perfect place for a business meeting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment they are seated, Macarena and Zulema order cocktails to loosen themselves up. Not too much, but just enough that makes talking about quarterly numbers and new contracts much less stuffier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the rest of their party arrives, they are shown to the table set just outside of the main dining area. Perfect to talk business, but also close enough to enjoy the incredible ambience that Cebo has to offer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are somewhere between appetizers and a main course when Maca lifts her napkin from her lap to wipe her hand, but she pulls the soft material of her dress along with it. Her thigh high stockings attached to a garter belt are revealed to Zulema who is seated beside the blonde. She makes a small hum of a noise and hopes no one hears it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Macarena does. Mid-laugh at something Kaiyō, the translator, is saying, she looks over and her gaze drops to follow Zulema’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema thinks she is going to cover herself up. Instead, Maca crosses her right leg over the left, hiking her skirt up that much more, revealing more thigh than Zulema can handle at the present moment. Her left hand grips her knife tighter, the desire to use it to snap the material of the garter clips is overwhelming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Macarena has the absolute audacity to lean forward, making conversation with the gentlemen while she sets her hand against her knee and then slowly runs it down her leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema Zahir knows enough of Maca’s weaknesses. All of them, if Maca is being honest, so she is pleased to realize that she’s discovered one of Zulema’s. The brunette places her knife down and slips her hand out of view to pull Maca’s skirt back down. The blonde pouts now that her fun is over, but she enjoys knowing that she has a little power over Zulema.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It comes as no surprise that Zulema has to regain the upper hand as she usually does. But what </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> surprise Maca is just how unprepared she is for it to get under her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just after they’ve bid a good evening to their clients and are left to themselves at the table. The wait staff is switching shifts and a cute, young blonde introduces herself to them. Zulema chats with her about the dessert drinks menu while looking at her as if she’s absolutely edible and Maca can only roll her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the girl disappears to fetch them some drinks, Maca huffs, “Do you have to flirt with everything with two legs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be jealous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca crosses her arms but doesn’t respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little blonde comes flouncing back, setting down Maca’s wine quickly. Then she hands Zulema her blended whiskey before asking if there’s anything else she can go for Zulema. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So many things</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the brunette wants to respond. But it’s neither the time nor the place. Especially with Maca sitting right beside her with her best pout. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>Another dessert cocktail later and the two are laughing like old friends are supposed to. </p><p>
  <span>“You charmed the hell out of them tonight,” Zulema compliments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good at what I do. You would know that if you would stop undermining me and making me look bad with clients,” Macarena reminds her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca taps a fingernail against the rim of her wine glass, staring at Zulema. “You realize that if one of us looks bad, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>look bad. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The company</span>
  </em>
  <span> looks bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema sighs. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Vale</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No more tricks.” She holds up her glass and then swallows the remaining contents. Maca squints, suspiciously. It is unlike Zulema to give in so easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Te conozco</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zulema.” The blonde touches her own temple. “I know what this is about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We both know what today is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The side of Zulema’s mouth twitches. She makes eye contact with their waitress and holds up her empty glass. The young girl smiles brightly and nods at her. Turning her full body towards Macarena, Zulema allows her eyes to travel down the blonde’s body and then back up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> today, </span>
  <em>
    <span>rubía</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would have been the five year anniversary of our… </span>
  <em>
    <span>arrangement</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Maca clears her throat and gives a quick glance around the room to make sure they’re truly alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” is all Zulema says until she has a fresh drink in her hand. It arrives promptly and Zulema finds that it doesn’t burn her throat the way she needs it to right how.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We decided that we would be equals when we left prison. That was the deal when we started the business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> decided that. I was perfectly fine with having you on your knees for me every night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Macarena’s thighs clench, pulling the white table just a fraction of an inch. The brunette notices. Maca knows it because Zulema notices everything she does. She’s learned Maca’s body in ways that no one else ever has, or ever will, she fears. What’s worse is that Zulema can tell exactly what is happening in Maca’s mind based on a single, tiny movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s affected</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zulema thinks. Macarena is still affected by Zulema. By her words. By the way her dark eyes seem to look past the bullshit and find the truth no matter how deep Macarena tries to hide it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema wants —</span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span>— to know if the business is the only reason they’re not what they once were. But she will not ask. She can’t. Macarena has already gotten under skin enough tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flexes her fingers. They ache to wrap around Maca’s neck. Tangle in her blonde hair. Fuck her until she remembers exactly who is in charge here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, Zulema has to remind herself, there is no </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> person in charge anymore. They are </span>
  <em>
    <span>equals</span>
  </em>
  <span> and for fuck’s sake that is the weakest thing she’s ever allowed herself to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another human’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>equal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zulema,” Macarena whispers. Pleads, really. And she prays that Zulema is in a charitable mood because Maca really needs her to give her a fucking break here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Equals,” Zulema drinks from the amber liquid in her glass, “it’s a nice concept. But we both know that you will always be </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>rubita</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much for charity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Maca says and it’s the crack of her voice that tells them both that she’s lying. “I was never yours, Zulema because you were never mine. You just wanted to control me just like you want to control everything and everyone else. It’s why you did what you did today with the Fujiwara meeting. And it’s why you brought them </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She isn’t wrong. Cebo Restaurante was the exact place that Zulema and Maca met when Zulema was finally released from Cruz Del Norte. It’s where they shook hands and decided that they would go into business together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t control everything forever, Zulema.” Maca tells her., gathering her clutch and standing from the table. She takes a step toward the main dining area before pausing and looking back at Zulema. “And it’s not me that you want to punish right now. It’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, she is gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She isn’t wrong. Zulema knows this, though it’s yet another thing on a long list of things she will never say aloud. She probably should seek professional help, but she just isn’t there yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea of therapy doesn’t stop Zulema. It actually does nothing except encourage her to self-medicate by taking the young, blonde waitress home and fucking her roughly until the sun comes up, refusing to let the girl kiss her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or touch her at all for that matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Macarena… well, she goes home alone. Knuckles deep inside of her own pussy, she only comes when she allows her mind to bring forth memories of Zulema’s hands and mouth on her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After she comes, she cries. Because maybe she is still Zulema’s. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>para las putas ratas.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Safe Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*nsfw</p><p>I hope this chapter cures depression, clears skin and makes pussies wet.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Flashback, 5 years ago </em>
</p><p><em> The first time Zulema summons her, it is three days after Maca agrees to their… arrangement. Maca has been on edge for seventy-two hours. Every nerve ending is raw with anticipation. And every time she passes Zulema in the corridor, she wonders </em> ‘is this it? will this be the moment Zulema finally touches her the way she needs? <em> ’  </em></p><p>
  <em> Each time, she’s left in disappointment until it’s time. She’s in her bed, lights are out when she hears someone calling her name. Turning over in her, she sees Casper at her cell door.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca climbs down her bunk and meets Casper there. “Que?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Zulema says to meet her in the bathroom for a cigarette.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca looks at her sleeping cell mates and then back to the door but Casper is already gone, walking back to her cell. Maca slips on her shoes and a yellow hoodie. She presses the button for the cell to open and off she goes, down the corridor towards the bathroom.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s empty when she arrives, so Maca sits on the cold steel bench. When the door opens and Zulema walks in, Maca jumps to her feet.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She doesn’t say anything until she’s standing before Maca, hands in the pockets of her uniform pants. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you know what a safe word is?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “N-no.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It's a word, of your choice, that’s easy for you to remember. You’ll use it if you’re too overwhelmed by what you’re feeling or experiencing and you want me to stop immediately.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How will I know you’ll actually stop?” </em>
</p><p><em> “Because I want you to </em> <b> <em>want</em> </b> <em> this. I don’t want to do anything to you that doesn’t make you or me feel good.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Zulema, you love torturing me. That’s what makes you feel good.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema shakes her head. “You and I are opposite sides on the same coin, Maca. We could learn so much from one another if we just learned to trust each other.” </em>
</p><p><em> “So I should </em> <b> <em>trust</em> </b> <em> you?” Maca scoffs. “After everything we’ve been through?” </em></p><p>
  <em> Zulema rolls her shoulders and tilts her head. “Exactly. You know what I’m capable of,” she points to herself and then at Maca, “and I know what you are capable of.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She has a point. There is a sort of mutual respect between them as of late. Zulema knows that Maca isn’t the type to be pushed around anymore. Maca does things because she wants to; because she knows she is capable of being a top dog in the prison. Zulema is well aware that if Maca enters into this agreement —if she gives herself over to Zulema— it’s because she wants to.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Escape,” says Maca.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What about it?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That’s my safe word.” Maca doesn’t know why it’s her safe word. Maybe it’s because freedom means so much to Zulema that it’ll trigger something inside of her if Maca says it, she thinks.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema grins. Nods once. She reaches out and her hand pulls at the zipper of Maca’s hoodie. Before she even requests it, Macarena is pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em> Vale <em> . Pick a number between one and ten.” Zulema tells her.  </em></p><p>
  <em> Maca doesn’t understand. She shakes her head once in confusion, but then her lips part and she says, “Six.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema takes up residence on the bench Macarena was sitting on. She pats her lap. Maca misunderstands at first and goes to sit on it properly. Zulema makes a disapproving hum and gives a shake of her head.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No,” she smirks. “Bend over.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca hasn’t been bent over anyone’s knee since… well ever. But she does it, and she finds that her nipples hard and her cheeks burn as she waits in anticipation. Zulema tucks her fingers into the waistband of Maca’s pants and underwear and shimmy them down until they reach her knees, leaving Maca’s bare ass and pussy exposed to anyone who may walk into the bathroom.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She feels her inner muscles clench deliciously at the thought of being caught like this.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Six lashes. You will count them out loud. The first two will just be to ease you into it, but after that, I won’t be able to control myself. Use your safe word if you need to.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay.” Maca settles against Zulema’s lap, body tense with anticipation. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A woman of her word, the first smack against her left ass cheek is gentle. </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em> Uno <em> ,” Maca begins and she finds that the world holds a strange weight of degradation. How dare Zulema force her to count a punishment aloud? </em></p><p>
  <em> The first spank to her right cheek is a little harder but still not unbearable. </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em> Dos <em> .” </em></p><p>
  <em> Then, Zulema’s fingers slip downward and Maca nearly tenses because she knows what Zulema will find between her legs.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Enjoying this already, hm?” The brunette hums.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The next snap of Zulema’s hand echoes through the bathroom and Maca groans.  </em>
</p><p>Tres. </p><p>Cuatro. </p><p>
  <em> Zulema checks again and grins as her fingers glide right through slick skin.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The fifth smack is issued to her ass and Maca feels the sting before she hears it and she counts through gritted teeth.  </em>
</p><p><em> The sixth and final smack lands directly against the cheek on her face. Maca doesn’t remember when she closed her eyes but they suddenly shoot open and she moans loudly at the sensation. Zulema actually looks interested in this development. She grips either side of Maca’s jaw and condescendingly asks, “Well, aren’t you just </em> <b> <em>made</em> </b> <em> for this?” It’s rhetorical, but Maca’s head nods ever so slightly that Zulema would have thought she made it up if she hadn’t been here to witness it. One hand reaches for blonde hair. She tugs harshly until Maca’s back is arched and Zulema’s lips are against her ear.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “I think you deserve a reward for being such a good girl, don’t you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Y-yes.” Maca gulps.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Manners.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, please.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema smiles and a single digit slides into Maca’s cunt. Her back instinctively arches more as her body demands more of the erotic touch. Zulema’s grip on her hair tightens.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t be greedy.” Zulema murmurs into her ear. “You will take what I think you deserve and nothing more. Do you hear me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, Zulema.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema gives her another finger, only because she secretly loves hearing Macarena moan her name.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How does that feel?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So good,” confesses Maca.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What do you say when you get a reward?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Thank you. Thank you, Zulema.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema works her fingers in and out of the blonde, drawing out more of Macarena’s essence with every stroke. Maca tries to control her heavy panting and sporadic moans, but when Zulema begins to twist her wrist from side to side, she can’t take it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Zulema, please.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you want to come?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh fuck. Y-yes. Yes, please!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ask me nicely.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please may I come, Zulema?” </em>
</p><p>Magic. Fucking. Words. </p><p><em> Zulema should say no. Really wants to. If only to test Maca’s resolve, but she finds that she doesn’t have the willpower for it. Not with a sopping, squirming, </em> <b> <em>begging</em> </b> <em> Macarena Ferreiro across her lap right now.  </em></p><p>
  <em> So, with her hand pumping furiously in and out of her blonde counterpart, Zulema adds a third finger, pushes inside as deeply as she can and then makes quick “come hither” motions.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca’s body tenses and Zulema quickly releases her hair and covers her mouth as Maca comes on her fingers, sobbing her pleasure loudly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When Maca has finally settled, Zulema pulls out of her, smirking at the results on her fingers.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What do you say?” Zulema husks, her sticky hand holding Maca’s face to her own. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Spent, Maca sighs a content, “Thank you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Clean up.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca stands and lifts her pants and panties back up. She has the sudden urge to pee, but when Zulema stands as well and starts towards the sinks to wash her hands, Macarena looks confused.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Were they finished? But—.. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wait,” she says as Zulema reaches the door, “what about you? I didn’t get to touch you.” </em>
</p><p><em> Zulema simply gazes at her. Then a cocky smirk crosses her face as if Maca has </em> <b> <em>finally</em> </b> <em> gotten into the game. When she leaves the bathroom without so much as a word, Maca realizes she has.  </em></p><p>
  <em> She’s played her hand, and now Zulema knows Maca wants her just as badly. And that will only serve as a bargaining chip in the future.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Fuck.” </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> “What did Zulema want last night?” </em>
</p><p><em> Maca nearly spills her orange juice. Her hands are shaking and she can’t stop seeing herself bent over Zulema’s lap being spanked… and </em> <b> <em>liking</em> </b> <em> it.  </em></p><p>
  <em> No sooner does Rizos speak up the elf from fucking hell, the brunette walks into the chow hall with her pregnant sidekick and her assistant. They cut in front of the breakfast line, get their meals and walk promptly past Maca and her crew. The pang of anger that Maca feels when Zulema doesn’t acknowledge her is shoved down by the notion that maybe it’s for the best. If anyone knew anything, there would be too many questions. Questions that Maca were unprepared to answer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Normal Zulema things.” She shrugs at Rizos and takes a bite of her bread. “Threatening me to stay out of her way while she executes whatever ridiculous escape that she's planning.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Rizos rolls her eyes over to where Zulema is sitting with Saray and Casper. “I guess she needs to feel like she’s still in control here even if she’s thinking about escape.” </em>
</p><p>Escape.</p><p>
  <em> Zulema pretends to scan the room, knowing exactly where her eyes are going to end up. She locks eyes with Macarena and smirks into the next bite of her apple. It’s the perfect metaphor for her, really. The manipulative little serpent sent to tempt Maca.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I guess so.” Maca responds, and that actually makes perfect sense.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema’s eyes shift to something behind Maca and then she turns her attention back to Saray.  Altagracia, the guard on breakfast duty this morning, steps up to Maca’s table and looks down at the clipboard she’s holding.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ladies, when you’re finished eating, you are to report to your new work assignments. Ferreiro you have been reassigned to laundry duty with Zahir. Kabila, you’re now on kitchen duty with Marquina.” Altagracia calls. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But—! That’s not fair.” Rizos objects.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Life isn’t fair,” Altagracia retorts. Maca knows to choose her battles with the woman. If she’s honest with herself, Maca even respects her a bit, especially since she’s the reason that Maca and Zulema’s war has ended in a ceasefire.  </em>
</p><p>Twins, <em> Altagracia had said.  </em></p><p>
  <em> Well, if only she could see them now. </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> After breakfast, Maca and Rizos go their separate ways. The blonde walks nervously to the laundry room.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema is already there, loading a dryer full of uniforms when she arrives. Their eyes meet and Maca suddenly knows that there is no mistake to her job reassignment. Casper is there as well, never too far behind Zulema, hanging sheets high so that they dry properly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, you,” Zulema says to Casper who looks at her with doe eyes, “go and get more bleach.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, Zulema.” Casper scurries out, head down, never making eye contact with Macarena.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “‘Yes, Zulema’,” Zulema mocks Casper with a laugh, “she sounds a lot like someone else I know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Macarena scoffs and starts to help Zulema load the dryer. “Don’t be so full of yourself, Zulema.” </em>
</p><p><em> “I’d rather </em> <b> <em>you</em> </b> <em> be full of me, </em> rubía <em> .” </em></p><p>
  <em> Maca inhales and feels the familiar tingle of desire between her legs. She ignores Zulema’s smart remark and instead closes the dryer, pressing the start button.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Turning to Zulema with her hands on her hips, Macarena wonders, “How long am I going to be on laundry duty with you and your minion?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “As long as I’m on laundry duty.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Because where else am I going to fuck you in the middle of the day?” Zulema considers her own question. “I guess I could ask for library duty. See how quiet you can be.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Macarena’s eyelids flutter. “What did getting me here cost you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema shrugs. “Nothing, really. Altagracia agrees that we should learn to work together in order for this prison to run smoothly.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca shakes her head. “You think you’re a genius, don’t you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I am.” The brunette’s hand is suddenly around Maca’s throat and Maca’s back is pressing against the warm window of the dryer. Zulema presses her cheek against Maca’s and whispers, “Tell me you don’t like the idea of being spread side on a folding table while I edge you for hours?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca’s breathing is heavy, and for fuck’s sake, she’s practically salivating at the idea. Her eyes close and she utters Zulema’s name.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That’s what I thought.” Zule considers starting right now, but Casper will be back soon.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And as if she is summoned by Zulema’s thoughts, alone, footsteps can be heard down the corridor. Zulema lets Maca go and steps away just in time for Casper to round the doorway with a gallon of bleach in her hands, none the wiser.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This was going to be pure torture.  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Needy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: happy birthday to my twisted bruja soul sister, anna [sapphiczule] aka andrew (andy, if ya nasty) aka andermelon aka my mayhem twin. ily bro. ✨</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Present </em>
</p><p>Maca flounces into the office with a brand new mindset. It is a new day and she is determined not to let Zulema fucking Zahir get under her skin today. Heels and standards high, she struts out of the elevator and she stops in front of Maria’s desk to collect her messages. </p><p>“Good morning, Maca.”</p><p>“Good morning.”</p><p>“Zulema is waiting for you in your office.”</p><p>Maca’s smile falters just a little. “Why?”</p><p>Maria gives Macarena a <em> look </em> as if to ask ‘ <em> Why does she do anything that she does?’ </em></p><p>When Maca enters her own office, Zulema is standing at her floor-to-ceiling windows, hands in the pockets of yet another ridiculously expensive suit.</p><p>She knows Maca has entered by the way the temperature has dropped below zero as Maca tries to maintain her icy exterior. </p><p>“It’s barely nine in the morning and the guy in the penthouse across the street has fucked three different women and had breakfast with a fourth,” Zulema says, finally turning her head to look at Maca. “Suddenly, my life seems disgustingly vanilla.”</p><p>“Fucking blonde waitresses not doing it for you anymore?” Maca replies, dropping her handbag and keys on her desk. </p><p>Zulema smirks and turns back to the window. “No, they’re too eager to please. I like a little bit of a challenge.”</p><p>It’s bait. Maca knows it is. Her intellect is screaming at her not to give in, but the bratty submissive in her is dying to know what Zulema will do if she challenges her. </p><p>“Like that’s hard.”</p><p>Zulema’s head rises slightly. Her shoulders rotate once. And she turns on, fully, on the spot. </p><p><em> Uh-oh </em>.</p><p>The older brunette crosses the small distance between them until she’s mere centimeters from the blonde. She doesn’t say anything. </p><p>Not that she has to.</p><p>Maca’s body is already responding. Zulema looks down. </p><p>Maca’s nipples harden and she fidgets under Zulema’s gaze. </p><p>She smirks. “Conference room. Ten minutes.”</p><p>Maca scoffs. “For what?”</p><p>Zulema is off her rocker if she thinks Maca’s going to sleep with her. And she’s even crazier if she thinks it’s going to happen in the confer—.</p><p>“Conference call with Víctor Ramala.”</p><p><em> Oh </em>.</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Zulema slips past her, making sure to brush against Macarena, murmuring in Maca’s ear, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound a little disappointed, <em> rubía </em>.”</p><p>She lingers for a moment and then heads out of Maca’s office.</p><p>Maca releases the breath she’s holding.</p><hr/><p>The meeting is boring. </p><p>Zulema half-listens while she opens mail using a sharp, gold opener that has a scorpion handle. Maca alternates between taking notes in her binder and making a to-do list for home. </p><p>Víctor Ramala flirts shamelessly with Zulema over the speakerphone, uncaring of the other people on the line. He likes a woman in a position of power. Macarena can tell. She does too. </p><p>Zulema does the thing where she exhales a low chuckle, and doesn’t <em> quite </em> flirt back, but gives him just enough to remain interested. It’s an art that Maca hasn’t completely mastered but she’s so close. It’s not her thing, anyway. She’s mastered the art of innocent seduction. And that, as Zulema once told her, is just as powerful. </p><p>The brunette looks for any signs of jealousy on Maca’s face when Víctor flirts with her. But Maca knows better than to give it to her. Knows better than to feed Zulema’s ego. So they simply stare at one another as the meeting drags on and on. </p><p>Occasionally, Zulema’s eyes shift their gaze to the speaker on the center of the table when someone says something ridiculous. Her brows furrow and she looks disgusted but she manages to shift the conversation back to where she wants it to be. </p><p>Always in control. Even from a distance.</p><p>It’s sexy. </p><p>Dark green eyes flicker back up to Maca who watches as Zulema runs her middle finger around the rim of her translucent coffee mug, and Maca suppresses a shiver. It is a sign. One they’d developed back in Cruz Del Norte. When Zulema’s finger went around the rim of any cup, she was secretly telling Macarena she wanted her right then and there, no matter who was around.</p><p><em> “ </em> Maravilla <em> , Víctor. I’ll have the contracts drawn up, and we’ll send them right over,” Maca tells him.  </em></p><p>
  <em> There’s a round of formal goodbyes and then Maca leans over the black, glass table to end the call on the Polycom system. Suddenly, she feels a warm body against her own. She exhales a nervous laugh and shakes her head.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Zulema.” It’s a warning.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Qué?” The brunette answers, and she tries for innocence but all Macarena hears is mischievous desire. A firm hand is placed against her back and Zulema pushes forward. It’s a guide, hardly any effort goes into it, but by the time Maca realizes that she’s already flattened her upper body against the conference room table. She’s already offered herself up as a sacrifice to the Dark Lord, herself, and now Zulema knows. She knows that Maca wants this just as badly as she does.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema chuckles.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca hates the sound.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her pussy flutters anyway.  </em>
</p><p>Traitor<em> , Maca thinks.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “Remember how we used to celebrate my genius back in the day?” </em>
</p><p>How could Maca forget?</p><p>
  <em> Zulema was always in a good mood whenever one of her evil schemes was executed without a hitch. She would reward Maca.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Over and over and over again until the blonde couldn’t take it anymore.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Like a hot knife through butter, Zulema’s letter opener slides easily through the thin material of Macarena’s stockings. Zulema pulls at the destroyed garment and the ripping sound runs up Maca’s spine. Her body reacts, flinching at the noise. Zulema’s palm comes down hard, colliding with the cheek of her ass.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The tiny punishment is followed by a gruff, “Keep still.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then she feels the cool metal against her pussy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Zulema.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema sits down in the chair and presses a soft kiss against either globe of Macarena’s ass. She squeezes them, moves them around a touch, and then kisses Maca’s pussy… gently. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh god.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s too much already and yet not nearly enough. Maca needs this. It’s a far cry from fucking herself to thoughts of Zulema. This is the real thing. And she wants to resist just a bit. Because Zulema likes a challenge, right? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But it’s too hard.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Especially when Zulema opens her mouth and begins to tongue down every inch of Maca’s cunt. Maca’s hands grip the edge of the conference room table and she tries to stifle her moans.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They’re running a business after all.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A finger slips inside of Maca and her knees wobble. They don’t give out, but Zulema stands and presses her body against Maca’s to help support her. Another finger enters Maca and her grip on the table tightens.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema trails a hand up Maca’s spine until she reaches a blonde ponytail and she pulls. It’s the perfect leverage to arch Maca’s back and also to dig deeper into the blonde for maximum pleasure.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca chokes out a moan that sounds an awful lot like “thank you!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca loves this. Loves being connected to Zulema physically. Zulema still wants her. She wishes they could have more than just this. Always has. Still, she’ll take what she can get, and work on the rest later.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema doesn’t just want this. It’s a compulsion. Needs to know Maca still wants her. And she wants to try. To give Maca more but this is easier. It’s less complicated if she can just express her emotions for the blonde physically. Why does everything have to be spoken anyway? Who made that rule? Maca should know what she means to Zulema already. Right? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The brunette shakes her head to remove that thought and focus on showing Maca that she only wants her to feel good. </em>
</p><p><em> “Do you need something else, </em>rubía?”</p><p>
  <em> She knows what else! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You know what else!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema chuckles.  </em>
</p><p>Puta morena, <em> Maca thinks and then her mind goes blank when Zulema murmurs, “Touch yourself.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Fuck, it’s all the permission she needs. With Zulema deep stroking her at just the right pace, Maca reaches between her body and the conference table. Her fingers find her clit and she rubs it the way she likes. The way she so desperately needs.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What else?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She fucking knows what else Maca wants!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Still, Maca reaches behind her, blindly searches for Zulema’s in her hair, and brings it around front to wrap around her neck instead. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema grins. She tilts forward, pumping fingers never once faltering, and whispers into Maca’s ear, “That’s my good girl.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A guttural half-moan, half-laugh escapes Macarena’s throat. “Keep talking.” She remembers who she’s talking to. “Por favor, Zulema. So close.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And you think I’m going to let you come?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Y-yes!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why would I do that?” Zulema’s wrist corkscrews round and round as she wiggles her digits inside.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Because you’re too good. I won’t be able to stop myself.” </em>
</p><p><em> Flattery gets Macarena </em> everywhere <em> with Zulema Zahir. Her narcissism will be her downfall because sure enough, Zulema starts to wiggle her fingers against Macarena’s g-spot.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “Yes!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema kisses her neck. Bites her ear. Strokes that much faster. “Thank me for my hard work.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maca comes while crying out her gratitude.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zulema kisses her neck again. Strokes her through.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I love—,” Zulema feels Macarena clench tighter at that word, “fucking you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No sooner has Macarena caught her breath, Zulema slips out of her.  </em>
</p><p><em> Maca tastes herself on Zulema’s finger but now she’s dying to drink from Zulema’s waterfall. Wants to taste her. And she’s </em> <b> <em>just</em> </b> <em> gotten her hands on Zulema’s belt buckle when the brunette’s hands take hold of hers and Zulema says her name. Once.  </em></p><p>
  <em> Twice.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then—. </em>
</p><p>“Maca! Maca, <em> vuelves al planeta tierra </em>.” Zulema snaps her fingers in front of the blonde’s face and hazel-green eyes noticeably shift back into focus. </p><p>“Sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet,” Maca lies. Zulema looks pointedly at the to-go cup set in front of the blonde. </p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>She doesn’t believe a word Macarena is saying. Not that she needs to. Zulema always knows what’s happening in Macarena’s mind. It’s as if she sold her soul for the ability to read her thoughts and body like a book. </p><p>And right now, as Maca’s fingertips twirl blonde hair around, and the way her leg is moving back and forth, Zulema interprets arousal. </p><p>“Sorry, what were you saying?”</p><p>“I can print up the contracts if you want to start answering emails from the Fujiwara account.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s fine.”</p><p>“<em> Perfecto </em>. We should also start working on the finances for the end of the quarter.”</p><p>Maca groans. She hates this part of her job. It’s nothing but days of sitting around going through every last receipt to make sure it matches up with the information from the accounting department. </p><p>“Fine. Should we order carryout from that little Cuban place on the corner?”</p><p>Zulema nods. “That will do.”</p><p>“Vale,” Maca looks at her watch. “Meet back here in an hour?”</p><p>Zulema nods. Maca gathers her notes and portfolio, heading toward the door. Her gait slows when she hears Zulema’s voice. </p><p>“Should I bring the letter opener again?”</p><p><em> Of course, </em> Zulema knows what’s turned her on. </p><p>Maca doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. She simply readjusts her posture and continues out of the room. </p><p>Zulema pushes her tongue against the corner of her lips, grinning devilishly. </p><p><em> She’ll be writhing under me, panting and begging for more within a month </em>, Zulema thinks to herself. </p><p> </p>
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